


Craving You

by LanceTraaash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Blood and Gore, Fluff, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), minor shallura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTraaash/pseuds/LanceTraaash
Summary: Now, months later a deadly pathogen had appeared, turning once-thriving cities into post-apocalyptic cesspools of monstrosity, killing thousands daily in ways almost unimaginable. The entire earth was in shambles and Keith still whined over Shiro.(Rather than living out the rest of his life within the confines of the Garrison, the apocalypse had other things in mind for Keith)(Lance is reunited with his college crush but he's not exactly what he remembered him to be)





	Craving You

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write a zombie au for so long and I finally managed to make one that I'm actually satisfied with. (Tbh I'll probably hate it 5 minutes after it uploads but eh)

Keith thumbs over the sleek metal of his blade, feeling it’s sharpness and admiring the way the plump gem inside almost seems to glow. Shiro had brought it from his last visit to Allura’s hometown. Somewhere deep inside a snug little shopping district where the owner had run an “Intergalactic Artifacts Museum” which in reality was just a tiny room filled with all sorts of alien-related paraphernalia. With Allura’s help he had picked from a case of knives and managed a way to bring it into the Garrison. Which by all means, was nothing short of a miracle.

They were his closest friends, even Coran, Allura’s guardian, was a pleasure to be around. Visiting Altea with them was always fun and even after years, the experience never dulled. The only issue was Keith’s growing feelings for Shiro. At first, he’d brushed them off as brotherly. Something lasting but never in a romantic way. But as the weeks prolonged they only intensified, pooling in his chest, growing larger until he thought he’d burst. Allura’s once sugar-sweet voice had become jarring, her name poison on the tip of his tongue whenever spoken, he did his best to conceal what he felt but it was hard. It made talking to the three of them awkward, and slowly, trip by trip, Keith stopped visiting Altea altogether. 

It had never been his intention to ruin something so sweet. 

Now, months later a deadly pathogen had appeared, turning once-thriving cities into post-apocalyptic cesspools of monstrosity, killing thousands daily in ways almost unimaginable. The entire earth was in shambles and Keith still whined over Shiro. 

There’s knocking on his door then a voice.

“Keith, are you in there?” 

“Yeah, come in.” 

Shiro enters the dorm, forced to bend under the tiny doorway. He frowns at the storm of clothing and trash and sighs. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, Keith. Clean. Your. Room.” 

Keith almost laughs at how serious the other is.

“I-I um…” He swallows hard, mind working into overdrive, looking for any hint of romantic undertones in Shiro’s words. 

“It’s alright.” he says, “I didn’t come to lecture you...actually I was wondering if you wanted to come grab lunch with me? Coran is there today, and unlike Iverson I’m sure he’d be happy to sneak you a can o-”

“Of course!” Keith blurts out. He can already feel the blood rushing to his cheeks but instead of frowning, Shiro smiles, which of course only makes his face redder. “I-I mean sure.”

As they’re walking to the cafeteria a small crowd of students quickly circle Shiro. Chattering and bickering to each other, doing just about anything to get his attention. 

Keith tries to forget his disappointment as he struggles for a place in the lunch line. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, hello there my favorite pupil!” Coran beams, his shininess driving away some of Keith’s gloom. “A certain mouse came by and told me you were in need of some ‘cheering up’ so...I searched the entire pantry extra hard just for you!” He extends a hand, releasing his fingers from over a colorful label, “Ta-dahhh!” Peaches. An entire can of sweet, processed fruit.

“Oh wow. Um. Thanks, Coran.” Keith grabs the can from him and begins moving away.

“Nuh-uh-uh!” Coran shakes his gloved finger, “You seem to have forgotten your most important weapon in these trying times.” 

Keith feels his pocket for his dagger, it’s...there? 

“What do you mean?”

Coran laughs, “A spoon of course!”

Oh.

Keith leaves the line, scanning the room for an exit. Shiro is still standing by the doors closest to his dorm and he’d rather not be subjected to another unwanted blushing all over again so already a definite no. He looks to the doors of the west wing, immediately noticing Shay sitting alone. A pitiful knot ties his throat into itself and he can’t help but choke on his words as he greets her. 

“Hey, Keith.” Her hazel eyes are dull, color seemingly faded with grief. Poor Shay. Before the world had gone to hell she was the most kind, understanding classmate he’d ever met. She constantly talked about her family with Keith during Philosophy, inviting him to dinner with them so he’d feel less alone. Now she had no family to return to, the city they lived in had been one of the first to be overrun and bombed. It being so close to the Garrison, news of the disaster had been the buzz of most conversations for days.

“You want these?” Keith pushes the unopened can towards her with his spoon. 

“No thanks, I don’t really like peaches.”

‘Me neither.’ he thinks to himself. “S’okay.” Keith slips his finger into the opener, a satisfying clink sounds and he drops the spoon in. He pushes the fruit around then finally scoops one up. It’s squishy and overly sweet and has a grossly artificial taste. Peaches. He hates peaches.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit...ow. Lance stop you’re getting on my nerves.” Pidge thrusts their elbow back, hitting Lance in the side. 

“Oh! My poor, succulent, flesh!” He yelps, doubling over and grasping at his shirt. “You’ve done me a grave injustice, Pidgey!” It’s ridiculous and he can’t help but snicker.

“Okay, well, first of all...do not, under any circumstance...ever describe your flesh as ‘succulent’ and secondly stop calling me that!” 

“Oh, you mean…” Lance smiles under his words, “Pidgey?”

“OOhmyfuckinggod.”

“Would you two stop bickering for five seconds and help me find the room?” Hunk glares at the two from ahead, tapping a bat against his thigh.“Okay, five-o-four. This shouldn’t be so difficult.” 

Lance’s eyes squint in the darkness. There aren’t enough windows in this area of the school and the lack of electricity isn’t helping. “I think I see something…” His fingers brush over the plastic plate on the wall, “Five-o-four...yup. It’s here.” He pats the door generously. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Hunk shines his flashlight over the room, illuminating specks of dust and old wooden shelves lining the back walls. “I think I see a toolbox up there.”

“Go get it then.” 

“What, no! Lance you do it.” Hunk’s eyes are pleading.

“Agh. Fine.” Lance steps into the closet, inhaling the musty air and frowning. His fingers splay over the dirtied wood. Sliding his hand across the shelf until he feels something cool and bumpy, “This it?” Hunk nods from the entrance. He pulls the toolbox down, shaking it lightly. A couple things bump around inside and not knowing exactly what they are is unnerving to him. 

“Go on then…” Pidge waves their hand at the box.

“Hey, you’re not the one doing it!” His fingers fumble beneath the latch, grasping for something that isn’t so rusty. Something activates and the top flys up, banging against the floor and causing all three to jump. “Well, I don’t see anything dead but everything is pretty mediocre.” He taps his chin, “We’ve got a rusty hammer, tiny screwdriver, and a couple nails. This can work, right?” his trademark smile is there but just as apparent is his uncertainty.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith’s eyes glaze over while he watches Shiro, examining the tiny dimples that form in his cheeks with such an intensity he’s surprised he hasn’t been caught yet. He’s so far gone he almost misses the figure creeping out from the shadows and making a dash for the kitchen. Confusion washes over him and he can’t quite understand why they’re rushing. Even though the room was beginning to thin out, lunch still had another good hour or so left. So, why was anyone running? Were sporadic pantry pillages common here? If that were the case, what was the point of Coran handling the flow of consumables? Forgetting the peach can in his curiosity he waves Shay goodbye and makes way for the odd stranger. 

He’s practically a breath away from discovering their identity when a low voice calls his name from across the room, Shiro is waving at him, not a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Keith can feel his heart rate picking up the longer their gazes remained locked and his mind is suddenly being blasted with panicked thoughts. He wills his legs to jog over to Shiro, not noticing the crowd cutting apart to make way for him or the dozen eyes that scrutinize every detail of his. 

Shiro pulls his hand back, scratching at the nape of his neck, “Sorry I couldn’t do lunch.” His arm is coming back towards his front in slow motion, very slow, excruciatingly so. “Is it okay with you if I come by later?” It’s moving towards him and now on Keith’s shoulder and heat is compounding beneath it. 

Say it. Say yes. Firmly. You can do this.

“I-I um...yes?” He winces when it comes out as more of a question than answer. He can’t look at him. Never. Nope, it’s beyond reach by now. “I gotta go…” Keith bolts before Shiro can respond, making a beeline for the door. 

He stops a couple feet short of the exit when he hears the west wing door swinging shut. ‘The thief!’ Keith swings his leg, a faint pain is aching in his chest as he jogs. It’d been so long since he’d done any form of exercise and a light jog across the cafeteria was no exception. 

He peeks through the door window, extra cautious as his eyes search the dim hallway. It’s faint but when he squints he can make out the slightest of movements feets away. He waits. Counting seconds in his head until the shadowy figure slips past a corner and disappears completely. 

Go.

Keith nudges his way inside, almost forgetting to breathe in the intensity of the moment. Sure it was probably just some hungry teenager or another thing equally dumb but it was the most exciting thing to have happened to him in days. He takes a couple steps forward, wary of how dark it is. There’s a loud scramble of sounds in the next hallway and Keith peeks past the corner where a large lights sits propped towards the ceiling.

“Did you get anything good, Pidge?” The voice is light, a bit scratchy, and to a small degree recognizable. The guy is pretty lanky, leaning back against the wall with his neck bent down, gazing towards a figure on the ground. 

Their legs are under them, arms spread over the rough carpet, pushing cans around and peering at the different labels. “A couple fat cans of beans, some sort of veggie assortment I think, it’s a bit faded...most of them are.” Keith knows this voice, the slight bite to their words, how small their figure is; it’s the kid from philosophy. They had always stood out from the rest, being so young and all. 

“Yayyy. Can we go now? It’s dark and Hunk no likey dark.” This voice is deeper, rough yet light, and the words spilling out from it don’t match the big guy standing so close to the others. “I’ll carry the cans, you two just make sure nothing touches me. Okay?” 

Keith knows he should step out now and confront them but then he notices their hands, specifically what is in them. Pidge tightly clutching a tiny screwdriver, the long wooden bat in Hunk’s massive grip, and the skinny hammer held loosely in the lanky one’s hand. It’s not safe. Keith watches as they collect their belongings and talk quietly to each other. 

The little group is shuffling towards the exit, Keith following close behind. He needs to say something now or it’ll be too late. Swallowed fear, puckered lips, and clenched fists come running.

“H-h-eey-” he squeaks.

“LANCE, WHAT IS THAT!” Hunk is tugging on the skinny guy, pulling him away from something...a slumped figure standing in the light turning slowly towards them. It’s movements are awkward and hinting at lethargic. The joints moving like sloppy clockwork. It breathes without rhythm, coming in...out..in…….out. He feels something hit his chest and realizes he’s stopped running. Lank-no...Lance’s hand is on him, long thin fingers spread tight, “Keith?”

His brows furrow, “Me?” 

“Dude, what are you doing here?” Lance is staring right at him, confusion dazing his soft blue eyes.

Hunk is still staring at the strange body, “Uh, guys now’s not the time…” 

Keith feels Lance’s hand push him back, making him stumble over his laces. “What is that thing?” 

“I don’t know...” Lance perks his head up, second arm stretching into a wave. “Uh. You good, man?” The stranger groans and Lance’s hand moves from his chest. “Dude? Hello? You hear me?” He takes a step closer, Keith watching them warily. “Aye, Hunk c’mere and hel-” 

“LANCE!” The stranger has Lance’s skinny frame pinned down in seconds, leaving him thrashing wildly beneath its body. He growls and saliva flies from his lips.

“GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!” Goosebumps are littering Keith’s fastly paling skin, muscles tightening in fear, hairs raising over his body. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, true gut churning fear. The kind that seeps deep into you, making you feel as if your bones will break apart at the slightest touch. His heartbeat is deafening and he can imagine the others are the same way. He needs to help Lance. He knows this but his legs are cemented to the floor, unmoving and unwilling. Seconds seem to slow into hours, Keith’s eyelashes, arms, his everything feeling heavy. In all of the thrashing and screaming, Lance’s wide eyes fall in line with Keith’s, pulling him back to reality. His body is weighted and running feels like wading through thick mud but all he can see are Lance’s pleading, bright blue eyes and it’s enough. 

He tackles the man over Lance, knocking them both to the floor in a frenzy. Their limbs tangle together until Keith has the other pinned to the cold floor, he reaches into his back pocket and drags his fingers over the handle of his knife. He points the tip to the other’s face, “One more move and I’ll slice your cheek.” the threat is empty but the rawness in his voice makes it seem more likely. Nothing changes. The man is still writhing beneath him, mouth open and gurgling. He can see the blade’s reflection in his dark irises but no fear, just the sharp, shining tip. Keith takes a glance at Lance, he’s recovering but it’s slow. It’ll be awhile before he can get back on his feet. 

His forearm is pressed hard against the stranger’s neck with enough force for the other to be choking, Keith lifts it slightly to give more room for breathing. He feels his skin touch the man’s chin, then slowly a shallow wetness is covering his wrist. Small teeth ghosting over the hairs then crashing down, sinking into both sides until his jaw is meeting his upper lip. “DUDE WHAT THE HELL!” Keith pulls his wrist back, a small piece of skin is hanging loosely and dripping with blood. He grimaces, twisting his body away, arms soaring through the air. Hot blood scatters over the carpet, a drop catching on Lance’s nose. The sharp of the knife glides over the man’s face and he really does slice his cheek. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Keith scrambles to his feet, legs wobbling as he points the knife forward. His bloodied hand shaking against his chest. The man...or thing, whatever it is is recovering. “GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” His voice is drenched in fear and no longer intimidating.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance watches in horror from a distance, the rest of the scene is playing out in his head and he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. He moves up, legs just as shaky as Keith’s. The thing is getting closer, too close for comfort. He grabs Keith’s good wrist, pulling him away from everything. Hunk and Pidge are already moving away and Lance blindly follows them. The four stumble down the dim hallways and back into the cafeteria. 

All eyes turn to them as the doors screech open. Lance has his arm over Keith’s back, he can feel him shaking under his jacket. It’s awful and he wants it to stop but he doesn’t know how to help him any more than this. Someone is making their way through the crowd, tall enough for the top of their head to be peeking over the rest. 

“Keith?” Shiro, Coran’s TA is waving at the four of them. 

Keith lifts his head up, shrugging out of Lance’s hold. “Shiro?” 

Lance watches as Keith makes his way towards his friend, then as Shiro cradles the other and stares at his bloody wrist. The man holds it gently in his palm, rolling the skin back and forth. He pulls his gaze away and looks towards Lance, slowly his mouth opens. He’s about to say something to him, eyebrows furrowed and concern in his eyes, but there’s a knock on the door...and another and another. It’s loud and persistent, growing in volume by the second. The rusty hinges screech in protest as the thing from earlier bursts through. It scans the room, murky eyes staring straight through Lance. 

His muscles tense, he refuses to move. He sees Keith cup his mouth, big eyes shut painfully tight. “Don’t move.” He mouths to the mass of students, but only a handful are looking at him and he’s so far from them he doubts that any can make out the words. 

There’s movement in the very back of the crowd. Someone reaching for an exit. The creature’s head jerks violently, its spine coming forward, shoulders rolling back. The door begins to creak as someone slowly slips out of the room. More people are moving now, quickly pouring from the cafeteria. The creature’s bony figure creeps closer, gangly limbs moving through pointed joints.   
Lance realizes that it’s preparing its body for more movement, his posture tightens and he’s more still than ever now. Around him students are breaking into a real panic, pushing and shoving each other as the thing picks up speed. Its arms spread wide, stretching far enough for them to be out of the sockets. He watches in fear as its mouth drops open, jaw flexing. It’s nearing someone’s back, fingers just inches from their shirt. 

Lance can’t watch any longer. He wills his body to move, closer and closer to Keith. He doesn’t need to see this. Nobody should.

He gently plucks Keith up, careful not to make eye contact with Shiro. “We should find Matt…” his voice is dryer than before and he’s thinking water would help nicely at a time like this. “Hunk, can you grab my pack?”

“Yeah.” the other huffs. 

“Wait!”

Lance tightens his hold on Keith, “What?” his brain whirls as he turns his head around. 

“Where’s Matt?” 

Lance huffs. A pale flush is already running up his neck, he’s beyond tired but refuses to let go of Keith. “Just follow us, I’m not in the mood for talking right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
